The White Dominican (12 page)

There are not even two among them who are alike, just as among the human animals on earth there are no two who share the same destiny.

Our whole earth is imbued with the spirit of this community; it is ever-present at all times, it is the living spirit in the great elder tree. It is the origin of all religions of all peoples and ages; they change, but it is unchanging.

Anyone who has become a crown and consciously bears within him the source-root, consciously enters into the community through the experience of the mystery that is called the ‘Dissolution with Corpse and Sword’.

In ancient China thousands upon thousands were initiated into this secret process, but only meagre reports have come down to us. Hear now some of them:

“There are certain transformations called
Shi Kiai,
that is the Dissolution of the Corpses, and others called
Kieu Kiai,
that is the Dissolution of the Swords. The Dissolution of the Corpses is the condition in which the form of the dead man becomes invisible and he himself reaches the rank of an immortal. In some cases, the body merely loses weight, or retains the outward appearance of a living man.

In the Dissolution of the Swords, a sword is left behind in the coffin in place of the corpse. These are the invincible weapons, destined for the last great battle.

Both dissolutions are an art which those who have advanced along the path communicate to the favoured among the younger followers.”

The tradition from the Book of the Sword, quoted above, says:

“In the method of the Dissolution of the Corpses it comes about that one dies and then comes to life again. It comes about that the head is chopped off and appears from one side. It comes about that the body is present, but the bones are missing.

The highest among the Dissolved receive, but do not act; the rest dissolve in broad daylight with their corpses. Their achievement is to become flying immortals. If they want, they can sink into dry ground in broad daylight.

One of these was a native of Hui-nan and was called Tung Chung Kiu. In his youth he practised inhaling spiritual air and thus purified his body. He was unjustly accused of a crime and was tied up in prison. His corpse dissolved and disappeared.

Liu Ping Hu has no name and no boy’s name. Towards the end of the days of Han he was the Elder of Ping-hu in Kieu-Kiang. He practised the art of medicine and came to the aid of his fellows in their illnesses and sorrows as if they were his own illnesses. Journeying on foot, he met the immortal Chu Ching Shi, who revealed to him the path of hidden existence. Later he dissolved with the corpse and disappeared.”

I could tell from the rustling of the pages that our ancestor passed over several pages before he continued:

“Whoever possesses the Cinnabar-red Book, the plant of immortality, the awakening of the spiritual breath, and the secret of bringing the right hand to life, will dissolve with the corpse.

I have read to you examples of people who have dissolved, so that your faith will be strengthened through hearing that there were others before you who achieved it. It is to the same end that the Christians’ Book tells of the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

Now, however, I will tell you of the secret of the hand, the secret of the breath and of reading the Cinnabar Book.

It is called the Cinnabar Book because, according to ancient belief in China, that red is the colour of the garments of those who have reached the highest stage of perfection and stayed behind on earth for the salvation of mankind.

Just as we cannot comprehend the meaning of a book if we just hold it in our hand or turn the pages without reading, so we will not profit from the course of our destiny if we do not grasp its meaning. Events follow each other like the pages of a book that are turned by Death; all we know is that they appear and disappear, and that with the last one the book ends. We do not even know that it keeps being opened, again and again, until we finally learn to read. And as long as we cannot read, life is for us a worthless game in which joy and sorrow mingle. When, however, we finally begin to understand its living language, then our spirit will open its eyes, and will start to read, and will breathe with us.

This is the first stage on the path to the Dissolution of the Corpse, for the body is nothing other than congealed spirit; it dissolves when the spirit begins to awaken, just as ice melts in water when it begins to boil.

Everyone has a book of destiny, which is meaningful at the root, but the letters in it will dance around in a confused jumble for those who do not take the trouble to read them calmly, one after the other, just as they are written. Such people are the hasty, the greedy, the ambitious ones, those who use duty as a pretext, those who are poisoned by the delusion that they can mould their destiny to a different shape than the one Death has written in their book.

But anyone who can ignore the idle turning back and forth of the pages, who is moved neither to tears nor to joy but who, like an attentive reader, concentrates his mind on understanding it word by word, will find a higher and higher book of destiny opened for him, until he is one of the elect, for whom the Cinnabar Book, that contains all secrets, lies before him.

That is the only way to escape from the dungeon of fate. Any other attempt is merely a vain, tormented wriggling in the snares of Death.

The poorest in life are those who have forgotten that there is a freedom beyond the dungeon cell, those who, like birds that have been born in a cage, are content with a full feeding bowl and have forgotten how to fly. For them there can be no release.

Our hope is that the great white wanderer, who is on his way down into infinity, will succeed in breaking their bonds.

But they will never look on the Cinnabar Book.

Those for whom it is opened will leave no corpse behind in a higher sense as well; they will drag a lump of earth into the spiritual realm and dissolve it there.

Thus they will take part in the great task of divine alchemy; they will transform lead into gold and infinity into eternity.

Hear now of the secret of spiritual breath.

It is stored up in the Cinnabar Book, but only for those who are root or crown; the ‘branches’ have no part in it, for if they were to understand it, they would wither on the spot and fall from the trunk. The great spiritual breath does, indeed, flow through them – for how could even the smallest being live without it? – but it passes through them like a wind that sets them in motion but does not stop.

Physical breath is only its counterpart in the external world.

Within us, however, it must settle, until it has become a shining light, penetrating every mesh of the net of our body and uniting with the great light.

How that is to happen, no one can teach you, it is rooted in the most delicate area of our sensibility.

It says in the Cinnabar Book, “Here lies hidden the key to all magic. The body can do nothing, the spirit can do everything. Put away everything that is body, and when your self, your ‘I’, is completely naked, it will start to breathe as a pure spirit.

One will begin after this fashion and another after that, according to the belief into which he was born; the one through an ardent longing for the spirit, the other by persevering in the certainty that he was born of the spirit and only his body is of the earth.

Anyone who has no religion but believes in the tradition, must accompany all the labours of his hands, even the least, with this constant thought, ‘I am doing this for the sole purpose that the spiritual essence within me shall begin to breathe.’ Just as the body transforms the earthly air you have inhaled, without your being able to see the secret place of its labours, so does the spirit, in an incomprehensible way, weave with its breath a royal garment of purple for you: the cloak of perfection.

Gradually the spirit will penetrate your whole body in a deeper sense than with those humans who remain in the animal state. Anywhere its breath reaches, the limbs will be renewed, to serve a different purpose than before.

Then you will be able to direct the current of this breath as you wish. You will be able to drive the Jordan backwards, as it says in the Bible. You can make the heart in your body stand still, you can make it beat slowly or quickly and thus determine the fate of your body yourself. From this time on, the Book of Death will not apply to you.

Every art has its laws, every coronation its splendour, every mass its rite, and everything that is born and grows has its own course.

The right hand is the first limb of the new body that you should wake with that breath.

There are two sounds that are heard first, when the breath meets flesh and blood: the sounds of creation, I and A.

I is ‘ignis’, that is fire, and A is ‘aqua’, that is water.

Nothing is made that is not made of fire and water.

When the breath touches the index finger it becomes rigid and resembles the letter I; “the bone calcines” as it says in the sources.

If the breath touches the thumb, than that will become rigid, stick out at an angle and form, with the index, the letter A.

Then “streams of living water will go from your hands”, as it says in the sources.

If a person were to die in this state of spiritual rebirth, then his right hand would no longer be subject to the corruption of the flesh.

If you place the awakened hand at your neck, then the ‘living water’ will pour into your body.

If you were to die in that state, your whole body would be incorruptible, like the corpse of a Christian saint.

But you are to dissolve with your corpse!

That comes about through the boiling of the ‘water’, which itself is brought about through the ‘fire’, for every process, even the spiritual process of rebirth, must have its own proper order.

I will bring it about in you before I go from you this time.”

I heard the Founding Father close the book.

He stood up and again, just as he had the first time, placed his hand, stretched out like a set-square, at my throat. I felt a sensation of ice-cold water running down through my body to the soles of my feet.

“When I bring it to the boil, the fever will awake within you and you will lose consciousness”, he said, “so hear me before your ear grows deaf.

What I am doing to you, you are doing yourself, for I am you and you are I. No other could do to you what I am doing; you could not do it to yourself alone. I must be present, for without me you are only half an ‘I’, just as I am only half an ‘I’ without you.

In this way the secret of its accomplishment is guarded from misuse by humans who remain in the animal state.”

I felt the Founding Father slowly remove his thumb; then he passed his index finger quickly from left to right across my neck, as if he wanted to cut my throat.

A dreadful, shrill sound like an ‘I’ scorched through flesh and bone. I felt as if flames were shooting up from my body.

“Do not forget: everything that happens, and everything you do and suffer, you must bear for the sake of the Dissolution of the Corpse.” I heard the voice of my forebear Christopher for one last time; it sounded as if it were coming up out of the earth.

Then my last scrap of consciousness burnt to ashes in the blazing fever.

I am still so weak that my knees tremble when I walk round the room, but hour by hour I can feel ever more clearly that my health is returning.

I am devoured by longing for Ophelia and I would love to go down the stairs to peer into her window and try to catch a glimpse of her. She came to see me when I was unconscious with fever, my father told me, and brought me a bunch of roses.

I can tell by his look that he has guessed everything. Perhaps she has even admitted it to him? I am afraid to ask, and he shyly avoids the topic as well.

He tends me with loving care; the least thing I need, he brings me; but at every token of his affection, my heart pounds with shame and sorrow when I think of the crime I have committed against him. I wish the forging of his signature were nothing but a feverish dream! But now that my mind has cleared, I know all too well that it really happened. Why did I do it? What did I think it would achieve? All the details have been erased from my memory.

I am not going to dwell on it. My only thought is that somehow I must expiate the deed; I must earn money, money and more money, to buy back the note. My forehead is bathed in sweat at the thought. It will be impossible; how should I earn money, here in our little town? Perhaps it would be possible in the capital? No one knows me there. If I offered my services as a servant to some rich man? I would be prepared to work like a slave, day and night.

But how can I ask my father to let me go to university in the capital? What reason could I use, given the number of times he has told me how he hates all learning that has been acquired from books instead of from life itself? Anyway, I lack the required knowledge, or at least a school-leaving certificate.

No, no, it is impossible!

My torment is doubled at the thought that I will be separated from Ophelia for years and years, perhaps even for ever. At that awful thought I can feel the fever start to rise within me again.

I have been ill in bed for two whole weeks. Ophelia’s roses are already withered in the vase. Perhaps she has already left? My hands are wet with perspiration as despair takes hold of me. Perhaps the flowers were her farewell to me?

My father can tell how much I am suffering, but he does not ask the reason, not even once. Does he know more than he is willing to say? If only I could pour out my heart to him and confess everything, everything! But no, it cannot be. If he were to cast me off, how gladly I would accept it, that would be an expiation of my guilt. But I know that it would break his heart if he were to learn that I, his only child that he found through a stroke of fate, have behaved like a criminal towards him. No, no, it must not happen!

The whole world can learn about it and point the finger at me for all I care; he alone must never know.